Unintentional Help
by NikaDawson
Summary: When cleaning out a dusty attic, James Sirius Potter finds something that may tell him more about his grandfather and his grandfather's best friend than he ever knew, and may help him realize something about himself. JPSB implied, JSPTRL.


**Author's Notes: **I had promised myself I was going to work on SSDA but I just got inspired again for the series of ficlets I've been working on. This one shot can be read on it's own though. There's slash in it, implied Sirius/James and second generation James/Teddy. Please, review and hope people enjoy.

"The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others, how much they loved them while they're alive." -O.A. Battisa

"Sometimes we let affection go unspoken. Sometimes we let our love go unexpressed. Sometimes we can't find words to tell our feelings. Especially towards those we love the best." -Anonymous

**Unintentional Help**

James Sirius Potter coughed at the amount of dust that flew off the old boxes as he moved them around the attic. He glared at them, wanting nothing more than to burn them and end the clean up that his mother had sent him up in the attic of his grandparents old house to do. His father and mother had never moved into the house, the ghostly memories of Lily and James in the house to much for his father to bare, and had packed up all the old memorabilia and stored them in boxes years before their children had been twinkles in their eyes.

"Sent to clean out a bloody attic just because of one little prank. Merlin, Victoire's hair will grow back. It didn't all bloody fall out," he muttered in frustration.

The vision of his cousin shrieking at the sudden lack of silver blonde hair on her vapid head still managed to make James smirk even after the four hours and counting suffering he was going through. What was even more satisfying was seeing Teddy holding back his laughter at the sight of his girlfriend.

A sudden sharp pain made him pull back his hand from one of the boxes, red blood now starting to cover his fingertip. He absentminded put it to his mouth, nursing the wound and glared at the tip of a letter opener sticking out of the box.

With his other hand he opened the box and threw the letter opener away, where it clanked on an old rocking chair and fell to the floor, stuck in the cracks of the old wooden floorboard. The box was filled with art, painted portraits of abstract things and sketches of people and characters of the artist's mind. With a raised eyebrow, he recognized one from a picture of Teddy's father he had once see, drawn wearing oddly enough a clown's outfit. He picked it up, gentle with the paper because it felt old and brittle and he didn't want it to crack under his fingers. There was a date written in the corner, October 30, 1972, and underneath that were the initials JP.

JP. James realized with a start that all the things in this box were once drawn by his grandfather, his namesake. He looked around, almost afraid that someone could see him snooping in the box, before mentally slapping himself at the thought. He excitedly waded through the parchment, laughing as he saw comedic pictures from his grandfather's mind. There was one very lifelike portrait of a little girl with pigtails and grass stains on her torn jeans that James didn't recognize from any of the pictures in his father's album. Another was a portrait of his grandfather's wedding day, his grandmother looking stunning, the only color in the drawing was the green of her eyes.

Hundreds and drawings and portraits, all dated and signed the same way were in the box. The first seemed to be a competent, yet childish drawing of a snitch, that was done when his grandfather had to have been around two. His grandfather had definitely gotten better with age, some of the things in this box could rival some of the art in the Louvre that his Aunt Fleur had taken him and his siblings to.

Most seemed to be of the marauders or Grandma Lily, but there were a few self portraits done. One even had his grandfather decked out in seventies punk garb, thick eyeliner and spiked color and black fingernails. It almost made the elder James seem angelic, the black attire contrasted with the other, lighter colors in the painting making it seem like he had a halo around him.

As he started to get to the bottom, the majority of the drawings were of Harry, from newborn to a year old, till the last drawing of a fifteen month old Harry in a pumpkin costume. The only thing left in the box was a letter, the name on the envelope was Sirius. He fished out the letter, curious and knowing he really shouldn't be reading a private letter to someone else, even if the man was dead.

His natural curiosity wrestled with his guilt, but he none the less decided to crawl and retrieve the letter opener from it's place in the floorboards. It sliced cleanly through the envelop and a few things fell out. One was an actual picture taken with a camera, of his laughing grandfather tickling his father's baby stomach. He chuckled, then looked at the intricately folded up piece of parchment, held closed with tape as if his grandfather really wanted no one else but Sirius to see it.

James bit his lip, but he started to open the parchment anyway. His eyes widened as it was all revealed. It was a drawing of two men, they were both outside and standing in the rain. One of the men, from what he could tell, was his grandfather, the messy hair gave it away. Another was a man with long black hair, taller than his grandfather. His hands were buried in his grandfather's messy hair, passionately kissing him.

His mouth opened, mouthing the phrase, 'Oh Merlin,' as his eyes scanned the drawing. His grandfather's hands seemed to be gripping the other man's arms, neither pulling him in or pushing him away. Was this some secret fantasy of his?

His eyes rested upon the letter, wondering if he should dare open it. What was in it? A crash from downstairs made him drop the drawing in nervousness and his father's voice reached his ears from downstairs.

"James, you done yet? Your mother says you can come home now."

The teenager panicked, frantically throwing all the drawings back into the box, along with the drawing of his grandfather and another man, placing another box on top of it so his father couldn't guess that it had been opened. He stuffed the unread letter in his pocket, schooling his features into a mask of innocence as his father appeared at the top of the attic stairs.

Harry coughed when he stepped into the attic, "Merlin it's dusty in here. How are you standing it?"

James shrugged, running a hand through his curly black hair, "You get use to it, after a few excruciating hours."

Harry rolled his eyes, "It couldn't have been that bad."

It hadn't been, but James couldn't help but embellish a little, "It was torture! Pure torture! My arms feel like they're going to fall off. You're going to have an armless son, and I'll forever walk around being pointed and gawked at in all my armless misery."

Harry blinked and opened his mouth, a look on his face as if he was unsure of what to reply. Finally he shook his head at his son's dramatics.

"Come on, we'll stop for some ice cream on the way home. Al and Lily want some Rocky Road."

* * *

Teddy was there for dinner that night. Apparently, Victoire was being more shallow than James could have ever though possible even for her, and had kicked Teddy out when he had said that hair didn't matter. Since they had been living in a flat together, Teddy had no where to go, so he had arrived at his godfather's house soaking wet with two suitcases he had mentioned she had thrown out after him. 

James knew he shouldn't feel such pleasure at the fact the he was part of the reason for their break up, but he had an inner feeling of glee. He didn't understand why the thought of Teddy being with Victoire made him so mad, the only conclusion he could come up with was that Victoire wasn't good enough for Teddy. Teddy needed more than a walking doll. Someone who could understand his sense of humor, and would be able to hold him and comfort him when he was sad.

As much as he loved spending time with Teddy, throughout dinner he could think of nothing more than the letter which seemed to be burning a whole through his pocket. Part of him didn't want to know what was in it, but the larger part of him wanted to know exactly who his grandfather had been. If he was so in love with Lily as had always been suggested, why had he drawn a picture of him and another man and put it in an envelope addressed to Sirius?

He made excuses, even jokingly telling his mother he had to lie down for fear of dying of overexposure to hard work. Al and Lily had snorted into their desserts, but Teddy had laughed. James had always adored Teddy, since before he could even walk.

He hurried up to his room, locking the door behind him and collapsing on his bed. A guest bed had already been put in the room for Teddy to sleep on, like it always was when ever he stayed the night. James had always been happy to have Teddy stay in the room with him, and Teddy had never wanted to stay in Al or Lily's room. James couldn't help but feel happy about that. He got jealous of them sometimes, of his father's and Al's close relationship, or of Lily's bond with their mother. Sometimes it felt like he was a stranger in the house. He knew that his parent's would only ever see him as their troublesome first born, and not a perfect little angel like Albus or Lily.

But with Teddy, it was different. Teddy always had time for him, always talked to him and listened to him. He even went along with some of the stupider things James had done. Teddy had always placed James above his siblings when it came to spending time with him. Was it so bad that he had set Victoire's hair on fire? Teddy had been spending nearly all his time with her lately, had been pushing away from James. What did she have that he didn't?

He shook his head, getting rid of the nauseating image of a happy Teddy and Victoire in a sudden marriage ceremony and focused on the letter he now held in his hand. He unfolded it slowly, smoothing the wrinkled edges. Unlike everything else from earlier, it seemed to have been written on lined muggle paper.

_Dear Padfoot, _

_You don't know how much I miss you. I feel like I'm going crazy cooped up here, hiding like a coward. I can almost feel like the Fidelus charm wants to suck the life right out of me. _

_I've written you a letter everyday. You haven't gotten them, I've never sent them. I always want to, but something's been stopping me. Harry's gotten so big since the last time you saw him, he's talking more. He asked about you earlier, he could tell I missed you. _

_I've been thinking a lot about things. Being stuck in here with nothing to do but play with Harry or talk to Lily, it's making me reflect. Do you remember the first time I told you I was going to marry Lily? I do. I didn't notice it then, how you felt. We haven't talked about it, I never brought it up. Maybe I should have. _

_I never really stopped thinking about what happened. You kissed me and you told me you loved me. I wasn't even sure then what I felt, I'm not that sure now. One thing I do know, that I want you to know if something should happen, is that I love you. I do. _

_I kept thinking after, if Lily wasn't around, maybe we could have had something. Sometimes, I even thought of leaving her. I felt so guilty afterwards. This woman loved me, and I chased her for years. I couldn't imagine putting her through that kind of pain. But there were times when I just pictured you, and felt like I belonged with you and not with her. _

_I love you and will always love you Sirius. But, I know now, no matter how much I love you and would have been happy with you, how much you love me, it was right of me to marry Lily. If only for one thing. Harry. _

_I have never loved anyone like I have loved him. I had never understood the level of devotion my mother and father had felt for me until I looked into his eyes. Something inside me told me that the reason I love Lily, the reason I married her, was for this incredible being. _

_You were always there for me, and I never want to imagine a world, my life without you in it. I use to think I wouldn't survive if I ever lost you. But I can't help how I feel, for you or for Lily. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the fact that this hurts, that seeing me with Lily hurts you. But I wouldn't change anything, because in the end, Harry is more important than my own feelings, my own desires. _

_I just needed to tell you this, before, before he catches up with us. Because he will. I can feel it, I know, that I'm going to die. Soon. It's like a foggy awareness. I'm going to die. I hope you can promise me one thing. Promise me you won't do anything rash. Harry will need you Padfoot. Lily's made some arrangements for him with Dumbledore, something about her muggle sister if your unable to raise him. Please, promise me you will. I have a feeling he's going to need all the love he can get. _

_I don't know why I'm sending you the drawing I enclosed. Maybe because I remember how much you loved them. I've made tons of you and Harry. He adores you, you know. He's been upset because he hasn't seen you in a while. Keeps asking me, "where's pafoo?" He's been walking permanently around with his stuffed padfoot now. _

"_A part of you has grown in me. And so you see, it's you and me. Together forever and never apart. Maybe in distance, but never in heart." I want you to know one last thing, that no matter where I go, no matter what happens to me, I will always wait for you. _

_Love and miss you. _

_Jaime_

_P.S. Harry says, in baby talk, Happy Halloween. _

The younger James didn't know what to think his mind confused and blank. Had his grandfather been in love with Sirius? He had certainly implied it enough. It implied that Sirius was also in love with his grandfather. But it also seemed to say that his grandfather was in love with his grandmother. Could a person be in love with two people at once?

In a way, he felt closer to his grandfather than he ever had before. His namesake had been real, a person with flaws and emotions like any other. Everytime they talked about the senior James Potter, they didn't talk about him as if the man had been real. He had never been able to picture his grandfather as a person. All he had really ever known was that the man had died bravely, had loved pranks, and been married to Lily, his grandmother.

Sometimes, he knew his father was still searching for a connection to them, some way to understand who they had been. Had Harry known about Sirius and James?

A knock at the door broke James out of his reverie the second time that day. He dropped the letter on the bed, not thinking about how anyone could see it. Unlocking the door, he opened it to see Teddy glaring at it.

"What's with the locking? You trying to keep me out or something," Teddy joked. James just looked at him, studying his features. The slightly too wide nose, the one eye that was a little bit crooked, the smooth pale skin and the bright blue hair. The amber irises that always looked at him with compassion and love.

When had Sirius known that he was in love with his best friend? When had he looked at him, and known? Was it some special moment with sparks and a crushing revelation? Or was it normal, something like, like right now.

"Hey, you alright," Teddy asked, placing a large, calloused hand on James' shoulder. James shivered, feeling the weight of that hand more than he ever hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, nodding his head. For one moment nothing mattered, not Victoire, not his father, not even the letter. Sirius had perhaps waited to long. He hoped he hadn't.

James leaned forward, lips sliding over Teddy's gently. The older wizard didn't seem startled or surprised, he only responded, the hand that had been on James' shoulder moving to his hip.

James pulled away, brown eyes meeting amber and said, "I love you."

Teddy smiled, kissing him again, this time open mouthed, tongue caressing the sides of James' mouth and murmured into the kiss, "I know."

"Love is as strong as death, it's jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love, rivers cannot wash it away." -Anonymous


End file.
